Some random thoughts on ‘Still Crazy After All These Years’ and Paul Simon in general

I have of late, but why I know not, become obsessed with the song ‘Still Crazy After All These Years’ by Paul Simon. Where did this obsession come from? I have no idea. I heard the song randomly one day and, although it was a song I was already familiar with, for some reason it managed to take up residence permanently in my brain. Something about the chord progression and the melody tinged with melancholy made me want to listen. And listen. And listen. At some point, it struck me that the lyrics were not as straightforward as they seemed. The more I listened the more I became convinced that the words were not only brilliant but also quietly devastating. Was this the darkest and most misunderstood song ever written? Something tells me you aren’t convinced. Let’s go through this carefully so I can make my case.

I met my old lover
On the street last night
She seemed so glad to see me
I just smiled
And we talked about some old times
And we drank ourselves some beers
Still crazy after all these years

Pretty simple. Two old lovers meet. They share some laughs and discover that they’re still crazy about one another. Except that’s not the case. As we will soon see, the song’s narrator is referring to himself alone and he doesn’t seem the least bit interested in love. So if it’s not about love, then what is going on? The situation being described is not crazy. Not in the least. Will the next verse give us a clue?

I’m not the kind of man
Who tends to socialize
I seem to lean on
Old familiar ways
And I ain’t no fool for love songs
That whisper in my ears
Still crazy after all these years

Spot any craziness in these lines? Yeah, me neither. This appears to be the opposite of crazy. It’s mundane. Why would somebody describe their encounters with normal everyday situations and then call themselves crazy? Why indeed. They’d have to be delusional. What if the narrator of the song were fooling themselves? What if they were so incapable of action, of taking any steps to improve his life, that they had sunk into an emotional morass. What if their cynicism and disdain for vulnerable situations had led them to a life of nothingness, yet somehow they still imagine they are something of a character? Their mundanity has led them to re-imagine their weaknesses as virtues, thinking of themselves as an eccentric as opposed to an emotionally paralyzed misanthropist. Yet from time to time, the veneer crumbles.

Four in the morning
Crapped out, yawning
Longing my life away
I’ll never worry
Why should I?
It’s all gonna fade

Middle of the night. Can’t sleep (again). An admission. A sign of vulnerability. Here is a person gazing at life longingly, wishing they could act to free themselves from their self-imposed exile. Then in a blink it’s gone. No need to worry, we’ll all be dead one day. Cynicism emerges triumphant.

Now I sit by my window
And I watch the cars
I fear I’ll do some damage
One fine day
But I would not be convicted
By a jury of my peers
Still crazy after all these years

Life goes on. The narrator continues to be a spectator. One day they’ll show everyone. One day they’ll make a real impact. Yeah, still the same old crazy guy, slowly dying. If my interpretation of the song is correct then it truly is one of the most spirit crushingly sad songs ever penned. Not in an obvious way. Not in a way that draws attention to itself. The melody carries you away from the sadness and replaces it with a wistful melancholy that could be mistaken for a love song. Don’t be fooled though, there’s darkness under the veil.

(I begin to ponder why Paul Simon has been denied a place amongst the most elite and revered North American songwriters. Dylan and Young are seen as authentic because they have denied their middle-class roots and have embraced some fantasy persona of a down-home, tell it like it is character who rails against the modern age. Simon is shown less love because he doesn’t shy away from his middle-class roots. Indeed he embraces them. Since the vast majority of middle-class music fans live in denial of their upbringing and instead foster some vaguely anti-materialistic, anti-intellectual approach to life and art then Paul Simon is more a reminder than an escape. Musically, Simon has explored reggae, Afro-pop, jazz, electronica and modern classical to name some of the more obvious examples, while Dylan and Young have remained defiantly conservative in their approach, not counting Young’s cack-handed attempt at electronics. So he has a lite-jazz saxophone solo? Well David Bowie used David Sanborn on Young Americans, and nobody seems to mind Destroyer’s saxophone solos.)

(Don’t get me wrong, Simon has his fans among the post-Garden State/wistful indie dreamers brigade and among the writers of adult-orientated rock publications, but he deserves better than that. His lyricism is subtler than most give him credit for but his thoughtfulness comes across as grown-up and not rock‘n’roll. Not earthy. Joni Mitchell has suffered critically for a lot of the same reasons, while her excursions into jazz-pop still give many the shivers. He is lambasted for his pretensions while Dylan and Young are forgiven for their banalities. Apparently it’s better to be consistently trite than occasionally falter under the weight of your artistic vanity.)

The beauty of song interpretations is that you can be wrong. Maybe I’m projecting here. Maybe I’ve just reached that point in my late 30s where I perceive the icy hand of morality on my shoulder and I feel my youthful enthusiasm wane and in response I reach out for those Paul Simon albums to comfort me in my unstoppable decline and as a result read my own situation into his lyrics. I can only hope not. I mean yes, I haven’t made writing and recording music my life as I thought I would in my teens. There’s still time though. Despite all the distractions and troubles life has thrown at me, and despite my tiredness at the end of each day, I still feel that I have a lot to give. Granted, too much of my time is spent working, or time wasting on the internet, but don’t let that fool you. I’m still, what’s the word? No, not crazy. Surviving. That’ll do for now. It’ll have to.

Although he grew up in a remote Scottish fishing village, Wallace had a destiny even he could not foresee. One day he would be living in an American city that birthed two of the most overrated bands of all time, and a stone cold musical genius. Can you figure it out? Each week is filled with sexy and exciting adventures overflowing with intrigue and ambiguity. In his spare time he writes for Collapse Board.

Paul Simon’s always seemed a very quiet entity. Graceland was about the most controversial move he ever made. Other artists have desperately and loudly reinvented themselves to persuade themselves [as much as their audiences] that they’re still relevant, that age hasn’t dragged them into the dirt yet, while the impression you get of him is of one just getting on with it. He doesn’t seem to self-obsess or neurose publicly – and thank fuck for that. His worth isn’t in attention-seeking antics; he just keeps on writing about his experience of life and finding beautiful, imaginative ways to turn it into music. I think people miss his articulacy and quiet trenchancy because it doesn’t shout as loudly as his peers do. Writers are always told to be concise; I can’t think of many songwriters who get to the heart of a point in as few [and accurate] words as he typically does, yet as you say he’s frequently ignored by people obsessed with the fetish of Young or Dylan.

I don’t know that that’s a shame either; for those who care, I imagine he’ll be making music til the day he pops his clogs. If others fail to get it… so what? Underappreciated he may be but he’s not exactly languishing in obscurity.

Rupali SamuelSeptember 6, 2017 at 5:55 pm

Dear Wallace,

I had almost an exactly similar experience with this song. I had heard it a few times playing on the radio or at someone’s house, but it is only when I heard a version by the Shadowboxers [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9ka2dKJNYRA] that I actually paid attention to the lyrics. And I was stunned and .. slightly defeated to realise that ‘still crazy’ probably means still completely out of it. I didn’t see banality in the song. I saw a person trapped by pain and probably depression, glimpsing people who can actually embrace life, but being incapacitated when it comes to doing that himself. The first verse is also very dark: She was so glad.. I just smiled. Even nostalgia can only do so much to bring this person out of the numbness. And yet he’s longing his life away. I think he notionally wishes that he could have an exciting/meaningful life, possibly with a partner, but when it comes to it, he’s so aloof/closed that he can’t actually bring himself to care enough/invest enough because of his deep cynicism about the world (and people).

While the layers in the music could feel dissonant to the mood of the lyrics, it actually spoke of the deeper feelings underneath the simple lines. I think I feel hope for the person in the song. If the music also tells half the story, he feels more than he thinks he does. It makes me hope that he decides to finally find inspiration/courage/reason to step away from loneliness and give life another chance. It might surprise him. It certainly surprised me.